


Broken

by BetweenSheetsAndRaindrops



Series: Scraps [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Break Up, Implied Mental Instability, Jack fucks up, M/M, as my bby C said i should post these and not keep them to myself cause yall, idk if ill go ahead and do it but, just jack gets hit hard, kinda??, more as it develops?, this is mostly scraps of a bigger thing..., we a fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 14:46:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11061192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetweenSheetsAndRaindrops/pseuds/BetweenSheetsAndRaindrops
Summary: things don't last, why would they





	Broken

He knew he broke it, broke him… them.

 

It wasn’t in the echos of the things which were throw and the wrested sounds of rapture from the glass plates, resonating like those whom casted pearls before swine. It was from the dry fiery acidity of the words he threw at his lover. It was like a silent death that crept at night. Lingering in the air. It was like the lady in the yellow paper, that one which he had read about in his younger years. It was silent, rooted and deadly before it was even pronounced. Promises which they had made to each other played in his head like a mantra. Everything was coming down on him like a cascade, rowdy and the bite of the rotten words escaping clenched to his skin like drenched clothes. Jack followed Rhys through the apartment, each step feeling heavy. 

 

He didn’t want this. 

 

He wanted to stop Rhys. But the loathing words escaped him like word vomit. It was a damn rampage and he had no control.

 

He wanted—needed—Rhys to stop to listen but the heat had gone to their heads and quickly devoured their brains.

 

Jack’s fire rose with a brighter light as Rhys grabbed clothes off the bedroom closet, tossing them into a bag as if they were a floating lifeline thrown into the damn ocean. He yelled at him, accusatory words weaving from his tongue to hit Rhys in the face. Tears were spilled. Bullets of truths coming from Rhys penetrated Jack making him feel the adrenaline kick in to the point of feeling sick. The zipper of the duffel being closed: the loudest statement made. Words kept spilling from Rhys lips and making Jack dizzier.

 

A warning. No, an assertion. One that that pierced through Rhys as Jack told him, in a low and steady voice, what he’d sign up for if he left through that door.

 

Seconds of absolute stillness dragged in what felt like hours. But the heavy steps that made it to the door shattered it all into reality. 

 

The wind of the door, the ashes scattered in the air. Ashes of who they were, up to that moment, all gone. He doesn’t cry, at least he tells himself that. But the obvious blur on his vision states otherwise. He wants, needs, but all his reasons and state of being left through that door. Closing him into a place where wrenches are seen. Cracks obviously displayed. The light of their home blown off like a candle.

 

Home, he just wants Rhys home but even he knows there’s no home to come back to.

 

Glass and signs of harsh things undone in the bedroom, that’s the mark left. The most powerful man in the world, broken. He was always broken. This, it was like his breath was taken after being punched. He knew it was different, Rhys, he was. What they had, it was, it just was and neither ever cared to elaborate on it because they both knew it was real. Now, the most powerful man stood with the bullets of Rhys’s words vibrating through his bones. The bleeding internal. The damage beyond repair. This home, them, gone like a breeze. He knew he broke it, he knew he would at some point or another. It was all that nagging voice in the back of his head said. He paid no attention. Not when Rhys would kiss him, would tell him sweet things, would show him anything but. He should’ve though. That voice, it was always right.

 

Always…

**Author's Note:**

> This was a late piece... or rather a rly early one since i wrote it half awake at 4 in the morning, ty carol989 for that muse. What would i do without you babe ♡


End file.
